


Bad Omens

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: BDSM, Crossover, Drama, Humor, M/M, S&M, Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 15, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-16
Updated: 2000-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Ray makes some decisions about who his real family is. Tom proves that everyday life is just as dangerous as Slaying.This story is a sequel toPissing Match.





	Bad Omens

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Bad Omens" 
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes 
    Rating: R 
    Series: Arc 1.5
    -------- 
    
    Ray sat in the middle of the apartment's shared storage area, attempting
    to decide what of his to throw out and what to keep before the accumulated
    /stuff/ threaten all of them with a hostile takeover of the apartment.
    He'd found a box of old photographs, photos he'd thought he'd tossed
    out years ago, and he plopped down onto the floor amidst the accumulated
    bits of his and his friends' lives. 
    
    Apparently he'd been wrong. About this box of pictures. Or maybe Fraser
    had rescued them from the trash. They did smell kinda nasty. He opened
    the box, staring down at the top photo. An old family portrait from when
    he had been six and his brother twelve.  He smiled at the picture he
    made as a kid, all teeth and platenum blond hair that fought to have
    its own way even as a child. 
    
    He looked at his brother, Chris.  Well, he called himself Chris back
    then.  When he started working in suits and ties on a daily basis he
    reverted back to his real name, Fletcher.  Fletcher Christian Kowalski.
    Everyone thought he was a demon. 
    
    Damn, his parents had bad taste in names. 
        
    He sighed, putting the lid back in place. He should have expected the
    rush of memories at opening the box. He sighed again, shoving it aside.
    Later.  He would deal with it later. 
    
    He looked at the clock.  Eleven in the morning.  Another hour before
    he and Fraser were going to lunch.  Grissom should be home soon with
    Aja.  Maybe he would watch Dief so the werewolf wouldn't have to deal
    with the heat.  God knew where Calhoun was right now, but Ray was fairly
    certain the four bayonettes and the Russian-made sniper rifle were his.
    That fuzzy thing had to be Tom's or Dief's and if one didn't want it,
    the other would. 
    
    He glanced back at the box.  Should he throw it out?  Had his mother
    thrown out the pictures of him as a child?  Was this all of his past
    that he had left?  Since the day they had disowned him, the day he told
    them he had been bitten by Ellery and was slowly going over, he had not
    heard from them.  No birthday cards, no phone calls, not so much as a
    post card from Arizona telling him he was the devil's spawn and to go
    burn in hell.  Nothing.  As if Damien and Barbara Kowalski had never
    had a son named Stanley Raymond. 
    
    He wasn't getting anywhere.  Let the stuff take over.  He went into the
    kitchen and made some coffee despite the heat. 
        
    *** 
    
    Fraser shifted on his feet outside the consulate. It was sweltering out
    and he'd been told to stand guard. He was convinced it was inhumane to
    force a man to stand guard this long in this kind of heat. 
    
    But what was he to do? Ray was off for the day, and he couldn't just
    leave his post. 
    
    Could he? 
    
    No, never.  That would be desertion.  He was ashamed the thought even
    crossed his mind.  Normally he could turn his mind inward and forget
    about the passing of time, but for some reason - perhaps the unseasonably
    warm day - he couldn't get his mind into the right state to ignore the
    tedium. 
    
    Ray would be here soon.  He just had to hold on until he saw the GTO.
    After that, after an hour spent in his lover's electrifying presence,
    so long as Fraser knew Ray would always be waiting for him, anything
    could be endured. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom peeked over Stella's shoulder as he pushed the cart half full of
    groceries through the store. "That's nasty," he commented, and moved
    on. 
    
    She gave him a look, walking beside him. "It's fried." 
    
    "Rat should not be fried." 
    
    She looked at him knowingly. "You're just saying that because you /know/
    you can't keep it down." 
    
    "I can't keep water down, doesn't mean I think that's nasty." 
    
    She nodded, "Uh huh." Her voice betrayed her sarcasm. 
    
    "Oh, bite me." 
     
    "Fried Moloch.  Sounds tasty." 
    
    "Huh."  He paused, studying the shelves of breakfast cereal.  "Hey, Stella,
    what kind does Ray like?" 
    
    "Shredded Wheat.  I think he's a closet masochist." 
    
    "Not your Ray, your other Ray.  Your ex, Ray."  He blinked.  That had
    not come out right. 
    
    "Frosted Flakes.  Get Fraser some oatmeal, too, Ray always eats it on
    him and he needs to put on some weight." 
    
    "You noticed, huh?"  Tom took a moment to check on his infant son.  Adam
    was sleeping peacefully in his seat. 
    
    "If he's losing weight, something's bothering him." 
    
    Tom found the Frosted Flakes.  They looked delicious.  He wondered if
    he dared try some.  What the hell.  If he puked, he puked.  He was in
    the mood. 
    
    "Any idea what?" asked the Moloch hybrid through a mouthful of dry cereal.
    
    "You're the psychic, Tom.  You tell me." She rolled her eyes at him.
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat in the air conditioned GTO, gratefully breathing in the smell
    of the cool air as Ray sped towards the diner. He looked at his lover,
    worried. The expression on Ray's face was distracting. He looked like
    he was about pull over and break down emotionally at any moment. 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    "Frase? Did you take my box of pictures out of the trash?" Ray's voice
    was quiet. 
    
    Fraser nodded, smoothing his eyebrow reflexivly before he replied. "They
    looked important." 
    
    Ray froze, glancing at Fraser. Important. Maybe. He didn't know how important.
    He didn't seem to be very important to his family. Never really had.
    Why should they be important to him? 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom stood at the ATM, trying to get the numbers to focus well enough
    to let him poke at them. Stamps. He needed stamps... 
    
    His vision blurred again, and he rubbed at his eyes. "Stel...." His throat
    felt very dry. Way too dry for his taste. He was having a hard time breathing.
    
    She looked up from the magazine rack near the store's mini-ATM and glanced
    at him. "You ok?" He looked white as a sheet. 
    
    She got her answer when he keeled over. 
    
    *** 
    
    He woke up on a gurney in the ambulance, staring at the ceiling through
    blurred vision. His stomach was cramping wildly. The baby kicking at
    him like it was trying to score a field goal. He felt incredibly over
    heated, and was still having trouble breathing, even through the oxygen
    mask.  It was as if the muscles in his chest had forgotten how to work,
    how to expand to let him breathe. 
    
    He grabbed for the mask, trying to push it away. "Ada...Ada-" He tried
    to speak, not able to get much of it out. The EMT seemed to understand.
    
    "Your son is with your friend. Please leave the mask on, sir." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser stared at Ray across the table, and finally spoke. "Why don't
    you call them?"  
    
    "I did," he admitted.  "On their anniversary.  I spoke to mum.  She was
    only polite.  Like gettin' rid of someone ya don't wanna be talkin' to.
    Then she asked me not to call back.  I think dad was close by.  Maybe
    she would've talked ta me if he wasn't close.  I dunno," he shrugged.
    "Maybe she wouldn't." 
    
    Fraser blinked, pained for his lover.  Such a gentle and kind spirit
    beneath that abrasive exterior.  Ray's parents did not deserve such a
    son.  They were fools for driving him away. 
    
    "Ray, I'm sorry," whispered Fraser. 
    
    "S'not yer fault." 
    
    "Nonetheless, I am sorry. " He looked up. Ray was looking at him, smiling
    strangely. 
    
    ***
    
    "Chart says he's pregnant," Tom heard as he was zoomed, shuttle like,
    into the trauma area. 
    
    "Demon. Dammit." The doctor tilted Tom's head back, trying to get his
    airway open. "He's still not breathing right. Tube him." He looked up.
    "Hienic?" 
    
    "Moloch."
    
    "Call obstetrics. Get an ultrasound down here." 
    
    Tom groaned as the doctor fought to get the tube down his throat. He
    struggled to keep his eyes open, looking at the nurse in a panic. She
    smiled at him, reassuringly. James. He wanted James. Now. 
    
    She nodded, patting his hand, gently. "I'll have someone call him." 
    
    An empath demon. Oh God. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. 
    
    ***
    
    "I dunno, Frase. I just don't think I want-" Ray entered the apartment
    first, stunned to see Stella waiting for them, Adam in hand. "Stell?"
    
     Fraser blinked, confused. He had contacted Turnbull and told the Seeker
    he would be late returning to the consulate to help Ray figure out what
    to do about his parents and the photographs. He had not expected Stella
    Vecchio to be waiting for them. 
    
    Neither of them had.
    
    "Stell?"
    
    "Tom's in the hospital.  We were shopping and he had some kind of allergic
    reaction to frosted flakes." 
    
    Before Fraser could expound on the dangers and pitfalls of breakfast
    cereal, Ray said, "Why am I not surprised?" 
    
    "Where is he?  How is he?" pressed the Mountie, relieving her of Adam.
    
    "He's...sick."
    
    "How much cereal did he eat?" squeeked Ray.
    
    "Four boxes."
    
    "Are they checking to see if he's diabetic, too?  Geez."
    
    She shrugged.  "He's a pregnant demon.  When they want to eat, they eat."
    
    "Has anybody called Jamey?" 
    
    "Not that I'm aware of yet, Constable.  I don't have his cell phone number,
    I came here to see if I could find it since I couldn't find Ray." 
    
     "I'll call.  He's doin' some kinda clan thing today."
    
    Ray took the phone and dropped onto the couch as he dialed.  "Yo, Cal!
    I don't care.  Tom's landed his butt in the hospital.  I dunno.  Hey,
    Stell, where is he?" 
    
    "Cook County General."
    
    "Allergies," continued.  "Frosted Flakes.  No, I am not making this up.
    Really.  Here.  Talk to Stella."  
    
    The vengance demon took the phone, her face set.  "Elder Calhoun?  Get
    your worthless carcass to the emergency room this instant.  Like the
    man said, I don't care."  She hung up, smiling sweetly.  "There." 
    
    "Maybe I should have you talk to mum."
    
    "What?"
    
    "Nothin'."
    
    ***
    
    The tube hurt. Everything hurt. He felt someone threading an IV in his
    arm and groaned around the tube, letting the groan grow louder as his
    stomach continued to ache. 
    
    Something cold and metal was under his shirt and he followed the doctor's
    gaze to the ultrasound. The noise coming out of it was...fast. Too fast
    for his ears. He looked at the doctor, confused. 
    
    "Your baby's fine," the doctor smiled, adjusting the weird white thing
    the other docctor had put on his finger. A pulseoximeter, or something.
    He hadn't really been paying much attention. Really wasn't now. 
    
    The stomach pain flared up, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The noise
    out of the machine doubled. "What's happening?" the nurse asked, quietly.
    Trying not to panic her patient further. 
    
    "Some sort of fluid huildup in the sacs." 
    
    "From the reaction?"
    
    "I don't know." 
    
    Tom opened his eyes again, groaning. /James? Where are you..../
    
    ***
    
    Ray pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, surprise showing in
    his face that he'd gotten there before Cal. He glanced at Fraser, who
    shrugged. "He tell you where his clan thing was?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    Dief was already crawling out the window.  Fraser and Ray sighed for
    completely different reasons. 
    
    "Diefenbaker, that's very rude!" 
    
    "It's also soooo 'Dukes of Hazard'," added Ray.  He looked around the
    lot for his retainer's black Jaguar.  Not good. 
    
    "Come on." 
    
    Fraser was explaining to Diefenbaker that he might not be allowed to
    see Tom due to hospital regulations and the level of behavior he expected
    if they were allowed to see the psychic. 
    
    Ray got the ward's location.  The desk attendant had been here for an
    hour and they were the first people to request Tom's room. 
    
    The Nazi turned nurse at the front desk would not allow Diefenbaker to
    see Tom and she allowed Ray and Fraser five minutes apiece, seperately.
    Ray went first, a little hesitant.  Tom wasn't in a room, just a spot
    in a row of curtained-off sections that let in every sound and smell.
    
    "Hey."  Ray crouched by the bed. 
    
    Tom opened his eyes.  "James?" 
    
    He looked awful.  "On his way, Tom."  He brushed the sweaty hair with
    gentle fingers.  "What happened to you?" 
    
    The brown eyes were still full of pain.  "The cereal aisle.  Stella still
    have Adam?" 
    
    "Yeah.  She's taking him with her when she goes home and she'll being
    'em back whenever we call." 
    
    "Where's James?" 
    
    "On his way.  How's the kid?" 
    
    "Alright.  The doctor said.  It's a good thing I'm half demon." 
    
    "Yeah.  Otherwise you'd have a helluva lot more explaining ta do." He
    paused. "You ok?" 
    
    "Mm. They need to do some draining.. Then I'll be ok." 
    
    "No Slaying, right?" 
    
    "Not for a few weeks, no." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun glared at the traffic lights, willing them to change. Tom couldn't
    be allergic to anything normal. Cereal. Who was allergic to cereal? Flour
    or corn or eggs he couls see, but somehow he suspected Tom would be allergic
    to anything Kellog's produced, just because he was Tom Grissom.  He grabbed
    his cell phone, dialing quickly. 
    
    "Kowalski." 
    
    "Is he ok?" 
    
    "Where are you?" 
    
    "In Hell. Is he ok?" 
    
    "He will be. They're taking him into surgery." 
    
    If Calhoun had had a pulse, he would've been having a stroke at that
    moment. "Surgery??" 
    
    "Calm down, Cal. Just a routine thing, they said."  
    
    "For an allergic reaction?  What the hell do these butchers do for hangnails?
    Amputations?" 
    
    "He's a pregnant male demon.  There's some build-up in those sack things
    in him.  They're just going to relieve some of the pressure so it doesn't
    hurt the baby." 
        
    ***  
    
    Stella had a marvelous day playing mother.  Adam was remarkably well-behaved
    and actually seemed to be paying attention to what she was doing.  Tom
    was so fortunate, she thought, looking foreward to the day when she no
    longer envied him a son. 
    
    *** 
        
    Fraser sat with Ray in the waiting room. "He's still not here?" 
    
    "Nope." 
    
    "Tom will be disappointed." 
    
    "Yeah." Ray looked up. "Know what?" 
    
    Fraser shook his head. "What?" 
    
    "Screw them." 
    
    "Whom?" 
    
    "Mum and dad. They don't want me? Screw them."  
    
    "Ray..." 
    
    "Dad never liked anything I did , any of the decisions I made from the
    time I was old enough to think fer myself.  I'm sick of being the one
    always tryin'." 
    
    "Are you sure?" 
    
    "Do you love me, Benton?" 
    
    "Completely." 
    
    "I'm sure." And he was. He may not see his parents ever again, but he
    still had a family, of sorts. He had Fraser. He had a father, sort of,
    in Caine. A grandfather of sorts. He had Dief. He had a family. 
    
    Who needed his parents?
    
    Screw 'em.
    
    *** 
    
    The street lights were mocking him. He could almost feel them laughing.
    They had changed to green long enough for the car in front of him to
    get by, and then had gone back to red. 
    
    Tom was going to kill him. He was confident of that. He could practically
    feel Tom's anger at his lateness. 
    
    Screw it.  He could run faster than this. 
    
    So he did. 
        
    *** 
    
    His eyes fluttered in a drugged haze. Fraser was hovering above him,
    looking concerned. "Tom?" 
    
    "He's still not here," said Tom before the Mountie could speak. 
    
    "No. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation...." 
    
    Tom sighed, feeling incredibly pissed off. "There's gonna be a reasonable
    foot kicking his ass, if he dosn't have one." 
    
    That didn't sound reasonable to Fraser, but he decided to keep such notions
    to himself. 
    
    "Sorry.  I just...want him here.  Don't let me yell at him when he arrives,
    Ben, please." 
    
    "I'll try." 
    
    *** 
    
    He was right. 
    
    It was faster. 
    
    Why the hell did this have to happen now?  Today, during rush hour, no
    less.  Oh, well, at least if he was killed for real today Tom would be
    a rich man. 
    
    How the hell big was this bloody city? 
    
    He had to get a lawyer closer to the hospital.  He spent so much time
    here with Tom all the nurses knew him by name. 
    
    *** 
    
    It took him another hour of running to finally get to the hospital. From
    the looks on Fraser and Kowalski's faces, he was convinced he was lucky
    Tom had finally fallen asleep.  He was disheveled and dirty and grateful
    his clan wasn't around to see him in this state.  Odds were his car was
    getting hooked right now... 
    
    Fraser relayed that the doctor wanted to talk to him personally. Something
    about a restricted diet. Without corn flakes.  Fraser hadn't really been
    clear as he'd ushered the detective out of the hospital room. 
    
    "Good luck," Ray called, snickering. 
    
    Calhoun knelt next to the hospital bed, staring at Tom. He looked horrible.
    "Tom?" He shook the psychic, gently. "Tom, wake up."  
    
    At the familiar voice the dark-haired man stirred and shifted beneath
    the covers.  "Tom?  Wake up.  I'm here." 
    
    "...james...?" 
    
    "I'm sorry it took so long for me to get here," he said, smoothing Tom's
    forehead and hair.  "How do you feel?" 
    
    "I /wanted/ you," muttered Tom. 
    
    Calhoun rolled his eyes.  "I was across town, idiot.  You had to do this
    during rush hour."  He was smiling as he spoke.  "How do you feel?" 
    
    "Doped up." 
    
    "How's my baby?" 
    
    "Fine." 
    
    He leaned over and kissed Tom on the forehead.  "Next time, stick to
    Nabisco." 
    
    "Where were you?" asked Tom, curling up around the vampire's hand, effectively
    pinning him in place. 
    
    "Talking to my lawyer." 
    
    "Oh?" 
    
    "Yeah.  You'll be a rich man the day I actually kick off." 
    
    "Don't tempt me." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Ray, are you sure you want to do this?  Do you think you should wait
    a few days?  Your emotions are running rather high right now.  You may
    want to cool off." 
    
    Ray looked at his lover from across the room.  He was poised to throw
    out the box. 
    
    "I don't think they'll ever accept me, Frase.  Honest.  Or you, either.
    I don't think I'll ever be able to please them." 
    
    "Then may I keep some of them?" asked the Canadian nervously.  "I would
    like some pictures of you as a child.  I have only the one of me with
    my parents." 
    
    Ray's face softened.  "Sure, Frase.  Ben.  Take whatever ya like." 
    
    "Thank you kindly," smiled Fraser, and took the box. 
    


End file.
